Scrabble -- Schwartz
by DeathSprite
Summary: Schwartz play Scrabble in an attempt to 'bond'


Thunder crashed ominously as Bradley Crawford entered the apartment, masking the slam of the door.  
"Zat you, Bradley?" a voice called from the living room.  
He didn't answer Schuldich. Walking into the kitchen, he shed his overcoat and briefcase. He continued into the living room, looking in on the odd tableau that faced him.  
Schuldich was reclining on the couch, one leg propped up on the table, supported by several cushions. Said leg was ensconsced in a plaster cast, the result of a slight mishap during the most recent of their assignments.   
(Schuldich will complain to whoever will listen, however, that being purposely pushed down the stairs by Farfarello is NOT a SLIGHT mishap.)  
Farfarello was sitting on the other side of the coffee table, poking Schuldich's toes, safely out of reach of the telepath's armspan. And Schuldich had nothing left to throw.  
Nagi ignored the both of them, favoring instead to sit in front of the computer, ignoring Schuldich's pleas that Nagi use his powers to scratch the leg that was hidden under plaster.  
"What'cha got there, Bradley?" Schuldich asked, thoroughly bored. Bradley set down the maroon box.  
"Orders from our employers. It seems that after that last litle INCIDENT--" he glared pointedly at Schuldich.  
"It's not my fault!" the German pouted.  
"--there are doubts about our teamwork abilities. Especially our communication skills."  
Schuldich threw his hands up in the air. "Bradley, I'm a goddamn telepath! We don't NEED any work on communication."  
Crawford nodded. "I know that. But our employers want SOMETHING, so we're going to play Scrabble."  
Nagi blinked. "I don't see what that that has to do with communication skills."  
Crawford nodded. "Me neither, but that's what they ordered."  
Nagi frowned, but turned the computer off and joined the rest of Schwarz at the table. Quickly, he flipped over the tiles and shuffled them.   
"A."  
"I"  
"7."  
"That's an 'L,' you idiot."  
"..."  
"What did you get, Schuldich?"  
"...This one's broke."  
"Let me see." Crawford grabbed the tile."It's a blank. There's two of them in there. They can be any letter. Pick again. Don't tell me you've never played Scrabble before."  
Shuldich drew again. "R. No, I haven't. I don't make a habit of playing games."  
"Except for mind games." Crawford quickly explained the rules. "I go first."  
Nagi's turn followed, and then Farfarello.   
Schuldich then took his turn, building "INGOT" from Farfarello's "PAIN."  
The game continued normally for a while, if one could consider floating tiles normal. Farfarello also astounded them with his amazingly large vocabulary in words that might 'hurt God.'  
Then Schuldich put down "MALEN."  
"Schuldich, that's not a word," Nagi pointed out. "Yes it is. It's German."  
"Well, how are we supposed to know that?"  
"It means--" Shuldich smiled slyly at Nagi. "--to cover liberally with p--"  
"I believe you." Nagi interrupted quickly.  
*Paint.* Schuldich finished telepathically as an aside to Bradley.  
*That boy has such an ecchi mind.*  
"With you around, I'm not surprised," Crawford said quietly as he put down "APOGEE."  
Nagi put down "BALINESE."  
"Where?"  
"On the board, idiot."  
"No he's no-- oh."  
Farf's turn came again, he put down "TEQUILA." He would have gotten 128 points for it, but they weren't keeping score because he'd kept eating all the pencils. No matter how many times Schuldich reminded him that he couldn't get lead poisoning from graphite, he continued to gnaw.  
Out of the corner of his eye, Schuldich noticed something as Nagi picked his new letters.  
"You're cheating!" He exclaimed. "You're peeking at them before you take them."  
Farf snatched the tray his letters were resting on and whacked Nagi over the head with it. Hard.  
Furiously, Nagi swept half the letters off the board, sending them spinning at Farfarello like miniature four-sided ninja stars of doom. With a scream of "My eye!" the Irishman leapt at the telekinetic, knocking over the board.  
The game forgotten, Schuldich attempted to use a pillow as a shield, but it was painfully ineffective. As his mind picked up the direction in which the fighting pair's thoughts were taking, he struggled to sit up.   
"Bradley!" He gave up attempting to be heard over the din inside and the racket of the thunderstorm, which had picked up again outside.  
*Bradley,* he hobbled forward. *I think I want to be very far away from this room as soon as possible.* He grabbed his lover's hand. * C'mon. Maybe you can help me with my other needs too.*   
Bradley chuckled. The noise of the storm would mask any noise from any room in the house, he knew, as he swept Schuldich up in his arms to hasten their retreat to the bedroom. 


End file.
